


Make It New With You

by Meloyelox (PastelBlueDahlia)



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, Ash Lynx and Okumura Eiji Go to Japan, Banana Fish Reverse Big Bang, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 21:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19472740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelBlueDahlia/pseuds/Meloyelox
Summary: In Japan, Eiji seems taller than him. He has that same air of confidence Ash knows he must have had back in New York, because the people here look at Eiji the same way they looked at Ash. He wonders if they’re becoming more and more similar over time, if maybe his rough edges can smoothen through the river of time like a piece of glass or a stone.





	Make It New With You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Daru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daru/gifts).



It‘s with his very first bite of melon bread, feet propped up on the chair and wrapped in a green morning robe, Ash notices it‘s his birthday. He checks the date on the newspaper again. The Japanese characters seem like incomprehensible scribbles and he wonders if he’s ever going to understand them.

Eiji hums along to some song on the radio, something old and peppy, and Ash thinks that he looks so much better than before. He vividly remembers how Eiji seemed to get lost in his clothes, and if you didn‘t pay attention he became invisible except for his hair. He fills out his clothes now like a healthy young man should, and something about that makes Ash uneasy.

Eiji sets a plate in front of Ash, putting him first again like it’s natural at this point, before sitting down. The porcelain glares in the sun and soft, pale yellow rolls smile at him, pepper as freckles, small tomatoes cut in half with mozzarella draped over them.

“Too pretty to eat,“ he says, voice rough. Eiji slaps his hand playfully before he turns his attention to the small TV he has placed on the kitchen counter. It’s next to the sink which is pretty concerning because he knows how clumsy Eiji can be, but then again the fact that he can worry about something like this is a gift.

Eiji must know that Ash is watching him because he has that small, crooked smile on his face. Ash really hopes Eiji wouldn’t waste it on a news channel.

He stabs the rolled thing with the fork Eiji has given him, puts it in his mouth as some politicians shake hands on the TV, flags behind them. 

“This is so fucking good,“ he breathes and Eiji‘s smile grows. 

“It‘s _tamagoyaki_ ,“ he says, his elbows on the table and his chin in the palm of his hand.

“How did you make this out of eggs?” Ash asks and Eiji’s face lights up.

“How did you know?” Ash bites his lip, trying to contain a smile as he points to the cracked eggshells on the counter. 

Eiji laughs. “And I thought you were a prodigy,” he says and looks a little redder than before.

Light and shadow carve out the valleys of his face, make the peach fuzz on his jaw visible where the light hits it, and Ash is overwhelmed by the urge to touch it and shave it off so no one gets to see this little unmade part of him.

Ash hums appreciating, connects the taste to the word _tamagoyaki_ . He catches himself wanting to say it, his interest in the language growing. It’s rather strange, since the few times Eiji has tried to teach him something in Japanese it always ended in frustration. He hates knowing what he wants to say, knows _how_ it‘s supposed to sound, and still not being able to repeat it back exactly the way he heard it.

It’s his second day in Japan, so the pressure to learn Japanese isn’t really on yet. But he’s impatient, partly because he doesn’t like feeling like an alien but mainly because he wants Eiji to praise him.

Ash has received many compliments over the years for various things, but at that moment he would have given them away just so he could impress Eiji a little with his Japanese skills.

It‘s not that he doesn‘t like it when Eiji explains something to him — quite the opposite actually. Eiji never gets impatient with him, never frowns when Ash forgets to take his shoes off indoors. And yet, it still makes him a little uneasy to be in this country with things that already have names in Eiji‘s language, names Ash doesn‘t know. Everything he sees, from the frying pan to the flowers are connected with Eiji.

Where does Ash fit in?

He feels more like a visitor than anything else. Someone temporary, someone who only leaves behind some pictures that will turn old and forgotten. He hates that feeling more than he wants to admit.

Japanese never felt like a language millions of people spoke. It was a secret language between Eiji and Ibe-san, something that involuntarily separated them from Ash. It feels like Eiji has thought of another word for “door” or “cutting board” himself. He has looked at Latin letters and plucked them as if they were ripe apples from a tree and rearranged them neatly like his shoes in the entryway. He presents them without even a hint of superiority, something Ash would probably have done in the same situation.

“So,“ Eiji says and takes a sip of his tea, his dark eyes watching Ash over the rim of his cup. “Is there anything you want to do today?“ His smile morphs into a grin and he stuffs a tomato half into his mouth to keep Ash from noticing, and maybe it would have worked if Ash had any interest in anything that‘s not Eiji.

“Scared I‘m too busy to hang around with you?“ he asks, and Eiji‘s response is something he has seen a million girls do _—_ a bright smile, eyes lowered, dark lashes curled to perfection, that expression that says _oh I knew you would say that._

He likes that thought. Eiji predicting his words, knowing him all the way down to his thoughts.

“Maybe,“ he answers, and Ash is helpless.

○ ◊ ○

While Eiji changes out of his pajamas, Ash is washing the dishes. Eiji‘s head pops back into the kitchen, asking where his blue shirt is, and Ash reminds him that he spilled coke over it and it‘s probably in the hamper. Eiji sighs deeply and folds a crease between his eyebrows.

Ash turns back to the dishes and bites a dent into his lip, the corners of his mouth still curled up.

If someone had told him a year ago that he would one day be in Japan and his biggest problem would be a dirty shirt, he would have laughed and pretended like that casual domesticity wasn‘t something he wanted.

Back then it was easy to see himself as a tool, a machine, something that was made for a specific purpose only. A machine isn‘t created to feel happy or content, and Ash still feels that strange guilt whenever he finds himself enjoying Eiji‘s presence. He didn‘t allow himself to want domesticity or a family. Revenge was all he had taught himself to feel.

He wonders if that will ever change.

The calendar propped up on the kitchen backsplash has a red circle around today‘s date, his name scribbled into it.

○ ◊ ○

In Japan, Eiji seems taller than him. He has that same air of confidence Ash knows he must have had back in New York, because the people here look at Eiji the same way they looked at Ash. He wonders if they’re becoming more and more similar over time, if maybe his rough edges can smoothen through the river of time like a piece of glass or a stone. 

It seems like Eiji wants to compress the entire history of the town and the country into this day as they walk around the town. And even though Ash knows that's not Eiji's intention he feels himself grow insecure. His mind fills the gaps of their conversations with his fears, telling him Eiji doesn't want him here.

The air at the beach smells different, and the waves look alien as they break against the shore.

It‘s strange knowing that Eiji knows this place and calls it home, it‘s strange how he can point at a house and tell him how he used to play there as a kid with his friend, how he chats with a business owner. A whole history Ash doesn‘t know.

Apparently Eiji loves to show Ash the most “delicious” food Japan has to offer because more than once Eiji chases him around with something, laughing, crinkling his forehead like he‘s having so much fun it hurts.

He looks at Eiji‘s laughing face and the crinkle of his forehead and he wonders if he took that ease out of Eiji when they were in New York. He wonders if this is the real Eiji and wonders if Eiji wonders the same thing about him.

Ash doesn‘t feel like himself, and for the first time he‘s scared that maybe not being himself isn’t such a good thing he had always hoped it would be.

○ ◊ ○

Eiji shows him a forest where the trees are tall and slender, create a mosaic of light and shadow on the dry ground.

Eiji tells him about his grandparents who live in the country and how he used to visit them every summer. He tells him about smashing a watermelon with a bat and eating it with his hands, hunched over and greedy. He tells him about catching huge bugs with nets and keeping them in jars and how horribly he cried when his parents threw them out. He tells him about how his ears were constantly sunburnt. He talks about these things like they happened yesterday, as if tomorrow he could wake up, grab a net and do it all over again.

Hearing all that does a strange thing to Ash. He likes that Eiji shares those things with him, likes how he blooms alive when he talks about the past, and yet envy gnaws at the back of his head. Strange, how all children seem to be fascinated with small creatures, how children everywhere in the world have the same want to have them around.

Eiji could do all these things while Ash couldn’t. Eiji wasn‘t reshaped from the heat of hands into any mold they desired. It‘s a bitter sort of irony that Eiji has brought back parts of himself he had thought he had lost forever and wouldn't miss. Eiji has introduced him to a life he never thought he could have, was _allowed_ to have, and has also shown him feelings like envy and jealousy.

It‘s a little like Adam and Eve. The forbidden fruit gave a life and took a paradise.

It‘s only then that Ash notices that Eiji stopped talking, probably because Ash is too caught up in his own head. He looks like he‘s waiting for Ash to sort through his thoughts, waiting for him to join him back in the present and it ties a knot into his throat.

The sky drips melody until the whole forest comes alive with water bursting on leaves, the way sugar spills over a floor. Eiji runs like he knows where he‘s going, Ash right behind him, his dark hair a smear of ink in the pouring rain.

They reach a bus stop with a wooden shed, barely holding together but with hundreds of umbrellas drawn and carved into the wood, different characters underneath like spells. Ash smiles and rubs his shoulder on Eiji‘s, directing his attention to them. Eiji goes quiet, and Ash feels like he‘s blushing but that might as well be because of the running.

Then, it‘s their panting and the soft gurgle of a gutter somewhere out of sight. The air is moist and Ash drinks it down like water, concentrates on the numbness of his cold fingertips. He wants to wedge them into the hole of Eiji‘s jeans, right at his knee, warm himself up.

A trickle of water makes its way across Eiji‘s face and Ash wonders if there is a word in Japanese that could describe that sight, because there sure as hell isn't one in English.

He wants to touch him _so badly_. He has magnets under his skin and everything is drawing him towards Eiji. And he’s only had that wish for a fraction of a second, a second he didn‘t contain it and suppress it and put it into a box and his fingers dip in Eiji‘s hair, thick and sopping wet.

The corner of Eiji‘s mouth drops. His forehead wrinkles as he steps closer, his cool fingertips on Ash‘ cheek. “What‘s with that face?“ he asks, his voice so soft like he‘s talking to himself.

“What do you mean?“ he asks, throat dry. He feels Eiji‘s hands on him so acutely like they’re covered in paint. Each spot he touches becomes forever colorful and dyed, a proof of him between his shoulder blades, his face, his torso — he wants Eiji to color him in all his colors and give him a new name in his language until he forgets his own.

Eiji‘s eyes go darker, half lidded, and it‘s something he has seen so many times, has made his own face do so many times. His other hand comes around to wrap around the small of his back, fingers spreading over claimed territory and he feels a sharp, sweet pinch below his navel, an ache that‘s just as familiar as it is new. His brain shredded in a mixer, only able to put letters in the simplest of combinations like “oh god,” and he wonders how Eiji can bring back all the parts he thought he had lost.

Eiji‘s thumb traces the corner of Ash‘s mouth, his nail on the very edge where lip meets skin. A sweet kind of torture, something only Eiji is capable of.

“This,“ he says and taps his thumb against the corner of his mouth, then moves to his forehead and flattens the crinkle there like an old photo, a wing of a butterfly.

Ash breathes out slowly, his eyes shuddering close as his skin tingles. 

His thumb makes a circle over his cheek. He can‘t tell if he likes it, that tingle of it. He wonders if he can allow himself to be had by Eiji. Wonders if Eiji wants to have him, maybe even for just a day.

“Come on,“ Eiji says and his hand slithers down from Ash‘s cheek to his neck, to his shoulder, upper arm, elbow, underarm and then closes around his wrist, pulling him towards the rain.

Eiji‘s in front of him, the fabric of his shirt clinging to his back, shifting with each step and then he‘s running, Eiji next to him. Rain drenches his hair and clothes, water on his lips, feels it trailing his limbs and diving in his hair like fingers. His shoes are squelching and his skin is cold but he hopes he gets to have this just a little while longer.

○ ◊ ○

They come home, chilled to the marrow of their bones, and they hiss out hysteric laughs as they run up the stairs. Ash says “hurry, hurry,“ as Eiji tries to open the door, his fingers too cold and stiff to grab the keys properly. The sky has darkened but the sun cracks through the clouds like chipped paint.

He‘s in the hallway, dripping, and Eiji bustles around him, takes of his wet shoes and then runs off to fetch a towel. The rain is so loud he almost expects there to be holes in the ceiling.

Eiji slings a towel around Ash‘s neck and pats his hair dry. There are layers between Eiji‘s hand and his scalp, but Ash still feels a mind-numbing prickle all over his skin, and he imagines that this is what the ground feels like when flowers bloom out of it.

It does things to him watching Eiji take care of him like this when his own hair is still dripping. Eiji pats the space behind is ears dry, and a shudder rolls down like a physical wave. He‘s sure Eiji can see how much he affects him, so he stops his hands.

Ash takes the towel out of his hands and flings it into Eiji’s face, and the muffled _umpf_ sounds so much funnier than it should be. He laughs, and Eiji‘s face appears beneath it with a pout. It looks like he‘s ready to make this a wet towel fight, but Ash quickly gets his hands on it and starts drying Eiji‘s hair.

“You need to take care of _yourself_ first,“ he says. From the tense look Eiji is giving him he knows he has used that condescending voice again like Eiji‘s a child who needs scolding.

“It‘s called hospitality,“ Eiji replies, arms crossed over his chest. It makes him crazy how such a slight shift in behavior and gesture can make him this insecure again.

“You know I‘m grateful for that,“ he tries to defend himself and fails. He pulls a little harder than necessary on the ends of the towel around Eiji‘s neck. Eiji‘s a little too close now, a little too much in his space, but Ash doesn‘t have it in him anymore to move away.

“If you always put others first they‘ll get used to it, and the second you don‘t do it they‘ll be disappointed.“

He‘s pretending to protect Eiji‘s innocence when he‘s probably the person who exploits his kindness the most. He exploits how Eiji accepts his growing greed, and it‘s that acceptance that makes him sure that if he were to pull him closer and do the things that come automatically with that, Eiji wouldn't reject him.

“I would make a terrible host if I would let my guest get sick,“ he replies in the little space between their mouths. It‘s like Eiji doesn‘t want to wake the thing between them, like he‘s treading the line between friendship and more.

Eiji is careful with him like that, puts rejection into cotton candy and Ash, so used to rough words, is too desensitized to notice it.

“Sit down,“ Eiji says, his face all gooey, and Ash just wants to get his hands in there, wants to bury his hands up until his elbows into him and let himself fall. Eiji‘s a witch _—_ he replaced Ash‘s kneecaps with candle wax and Ash sinks down onto the edge of the bed so hard and suddenly the mattress bounces and squeaks. Eiji‘s grin widens and Ash wants to pull him down and roll around in the sheets, touch that chin, the curve of his cheek when he smiles—

“Wait,“ he says and Ash thinks of the things to do in a bed that are as innocent as Eiji. “Close your eyes.“ Ash closes his eyes, waiting, and half expects to wake up in New York, Shorter leaning against the door frame, yawning.

He wouldn‘t mind, really. Had these past few months been a dream he would be fine with it. If his brain, after everything he _had_ to let happen, was still able to conjure someone as pure and lovely and caring as Eiji, then maybe he‘s not such a terrible human being as he had thought.

Behind his eyes, a light moves. A sizzle. Eiji cursing. He thinks of Shorter, thinks about how he was so damn young, about how in a handful of years he‘ll be older than Shorter ever was.

“Happy birthday,“ Eiji whispers. Ash opens his eyes—

He‘ll be older than his brother ever was, older than Skip—

Sparklers sink in thick buttercream. Sparks burn into his eyes until he can‘t tell if what he‘s seeing is confetti or fire.

Eiji puts the firework of sugar onto the table, “This is your first present,“ he says, each word so carefully handpicked. His hands clench at his sides, unsure, and he cups Ash‘s shoulder, moves into his space and then leaves something soft and warm and wet on his mouth. Once he realizes what‘s happening he wants to lick if off like a sweet until he notices the way Eiji‘s eyebrows are drawn together, the way they do when he‘s embarrassed.

“And this...“ he says at the spot below Ash‘s collarbone, “This was your second present.“ His voice honest to god _trembles_ . Ash wants to kick every past self that ever put that tremble into Eiji‘s voice. He wants to knock himself the fuck out because how _dare_ he put that insecurity into him.

Ash wants to bundle him up in blankets but his synapses don‘t send his muscles the message to do it, to move, to do anything. He stares until he can‘t see anything but sparks, blurry, until it‘s not anymore. After the first tear falls Eiji‘s worried face is in front of him, sparks glinting in his dark eyes.

“I‘m sorry,“ he says and feels the tears plop down his face and Eiji‘s hands are on his cheeks again. “I‘m so sorry Ash, I never wanted to— I thought—“

“Eiji,“ he interrupts him. “Eiji you‘re so, _so_ good to me and you don‘t even know it, or you act like you don‘t know and it‘s killing me. I just — I don‘t deserve this at all. I‘ve hurt so many people. I — I‘m horrible, I‘m a monster but you still remember my birthday like — like you don‘t know who I am, like you don‘t want to see—“

It‘s like a car crash — the seat belt cuts into his rib cage and leaves marks on his bones. If he doesn‘t get all of these ugly, huge feelings and thoughts out now then he never will—

Eiji shakes his head in his hands, his face crinkled from pain, “Ash, stop this!“ Ash shakes his head and sobs, the way he hasn't done in years, his ribs shaking like ground plates.

“You‘re not a monster,“ Eiji says, “The things you feel guilty about, that you are ashamed of were placed on you, they happened to you and you reacted to them—“ Ash repeats _no_ and _no_ over and over again, weakly gripping Eiji‘s wrists, trying to pull his hands away from his face.

“Ash,“ Eiji sobs. “You _saved me_. Isn‘t this enough? You know how I felt when I came to America, I felt — hopeless. You gave me a future and you gave me a reason to want to see that future. Please, let this be enough.“ Ash shuts his eyes until he sees bursts of light on the inside of his eyelids.

“Do you know why I saved you over and over again? Why I risked everything for you?“ he asks and hates himself for making Eiji look this broken, hates how anyone around him becomes just as broken and blue as he is.

“I—“ the words feel big and chunky in Ash’s mouth, cheap and repeated so many times they‘re devoid of meaning.

He pulls Eiji in, kisses the wetness of his cheeks, his shuddering lips, and then again and again because there‘s no way he could make Eiji understand just _how much_ he means to him.

“Ash,“ he whispers, eyes closed. “I know,“ he breathes. “I‘ve known for a _long_ time,“ he says, his mouth quirking up.

Some part of Ash had known that Eiji knew. Or he had hoped for it so badly that a different reality would have broken him further.

“Can I stay?“ he asks, and Eiji‘s eyes grow big, “Despite everything, can I stay with you?“

Eiji smiles. “There‘s no condition you have to fulfill. This is your place as much as it‘s mine.“ and he kisses Ash‘s cheek, wipes his thumb over the vulnerable lilac skin under his eyes. Ash breaks — he sobs, his arms coming around Eiji‘s waist like a vice and he buries his face in the soft fabric of Eiji‘s sweater.

Eiji sighs, almost content, and strokes the back of Ash‘s head. He knows without looking that Eiji has that soft smile on his face again. That sort of smile that almost scolds him for still not knowing that everything will be alright in the end.

At least for now, at least for today, he wants to believe in Eiji enough to trust his words.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Banana Fish Reverse Big Bang. The inspiration for this emotional rollercoaster was the gorgeous, heartbreaking art from Daru/Rainphones. Their [art](https://rainphones.tumblr.com/post/186059246869/comforting)  
> is simply amazing, and it was a great experience to work with someone who supported and inspired me, and I'm really grateful for that. 
> 
> Please check out their social media:  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/rainphones)  
> [Tumblr](https://rainphones.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I also want to thank my beta reader Elena Stidham who really helped me to make this mess of a fic way less messy. Please check out their stuff too, they also write Banana Fish! You can find them [here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elena_stidham/pseuds/elena_stidham)
> 
> Also: THANK YOU FOR READING THIS AND I HOPE YOU LIKED IT


End file.
